


in the sight of the Gods

by lionsenpai



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard, Drakengard 3
Genre: Ace!One, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsenpai/pseuds/lionsenpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zero is the unlucky mortal caught in the Flower’s games. One is the goddess trying to help her not get killed aka Athena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the sight of the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zerrat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/gifts).



> Greek AU was brought up and my hand slipped.

The blood burned, sizzling on the hard leather of Zero’s panoply. It ate through the wide sleeves of her tunic, inflaming the skin of her biceps, already slick with sweat and grime from the gorgon’s cave. Her arm ached with the weight of her polished silver shield and the head in the bag, but the smell of olives drove her on, the fresh water spring so close she could taste the sweet water. 

Only the climb stood between them, one hundred steps up the side of the hill worn from use over the years. She paused at the base, but when she did, her legs threatened to buckle, and she was forced to move on lest she collapse there. 

The sun beat hot and persistent from above, and without a cloud to protect her, Zero felt herself begin to sweat once more, trickles of it creeping down her spine. Beneath her boiled breastplate, her tunic was cool and chaffing, smelling like dirt and body and blood, but her mouth was dry enough that it didn’t matter. Briefly, she cursed Octa for not being quicker in his journey across the sky, but she quickly repented, keeping her eye downcast. She’d already run amok of one God; even One would be unable to protect her from both the Flower and Octa. 

Finally, when her legs felt no stronger than the swaying branches of a willow, Zero crested the hill, arriving at the summit and nearly falling forward to spring, its shore knotted with the roots of the great olive tree growing by its side. 

"Shit," Zero breathed, dropping the tied sack and her shield at the top of the steps. 

Here, the valley opened up around her, grassy fields continuing on as far as the eye could see. Winds raced across the stalks of shifting wildflowers, yet the sight was nothing to Zero. 

She stripped her breastplate and tossed her vambraces into the knee-high foliage, coming to kneel by the spring and dipping her filthy palms into the cool water. She drank greedily, one mouthful and then another and another until her parched throat was sated, the ripples breaking the serene stillness of the water. She wiped her face, breathing hard, and did not try to rise. Her legs trembled beneath her. 

"You ought to wash after a battle, warrior."

Zero jerked, looking up and finding the speaker nestled in among the twisted roots at the curved base of the olive tree. She melted into the bark, back curved with the slope of the tree, and it nearly seemed to envelope her, twisting around her niche protectively. The hag wrapped herself in woolen robes, her hair wiry and white beneath her hood, a wicker basket under her left arm, an ancient, knobbed staff clutched weakly in her right. She licked her lips and nodded toward the spring.

Zero looked back for her shield, touching the dirk at her belt, but after a moment she relaxed. If she were a harpy hiding her true form, she would have snatched Zero up without saying a word. Besides, she didn’t  _sound_  like a harpy; their hoarse, rattling voices gave them away before their contorted features did. 

"Who the fuck asked you?" she snapped, although she did cast a lingering look at the spring, hip-deep water welcoming. "How did you know I’m returning from a battle?"

The crone laughed. “I am not yet blind. You come victorious from a great fight. Might you regal me with the tale?”

Zero let out a bark of laughter, the end rasping. Scowling, she took another drink from the spring and then considered again. After a moment, she pulled her tunic over her head and tugged at her studded sandals until they gave, sliding into the water bonelessly. She meant to scrub the gorgon’s blood from her arms and legs, but as soon as she felt the weightless cool of the water, she sat unmoving, heels brushing against the muddy bottom. It was all she could to swipe the crusted dirt and sweat from her long abandoned helm from her face. 

The spring drew the exhaustion from her sore muscles, and she tipped her head back, hair falling from its sloppy bun. It trailed her head, little ripples sending the sleek strands swaying this way or that that wildflowers in the wind. 

"To bathe after a battle cleanses the body of its ails," the woman hummed from the shore, and Zero cracked open an eye to glance her way. She busied herself with her wicker basket, drawing olives from it and watching the gentle shift of the tree above her. "It is the rite reserved for soldiers and those chosen by the Gods." She smiled faintly, the wrinkles around her mouth pulling, but her eyes did not stray from the sky. "You don’t look much like a soldier," she decided, popping one of the olives into her mouth. 

Zero sneered, making a sound of derision low in her throat, but her tone was subdued, her voice trailing. “Last time I checked, anyone could take a goddamn bath.” She grunted quietly. “Shut up.”

"Murderers and kinslayers are denied the waters. They wear their sins upon their skin for Gods and men to see." She tilted her staff in Zero’s direction. "You are different. Perhaps yours was a just killing?"

Just. That was what One had called it anyway. Things ordered by the Gods were  _always_  just. She could fuck her way through every brothel this side of Athens and call it ordained if Five came whispering to her of _her_  godly trials. She supposed that the Goddess of Justice would know best, though. 

"I guess," Zero said, twisting in the water to face the woman outright. She looked her up and down, and only then did she return her gaze, the crone’s bright eyes crinkling playfully at the edges. She was bone thin and small, yet Zero hadn’t seen a single farm for miles. "Why are you up here anyway?" she asked, frowning suspiciously. 

"Our Lady’s spring draws me here." She smiled, tapping the bark with the club end of her staff. "As well as Her olives."

"Cut the shit," Zero said, standing, the water sliding off her skin in sheets. "No way a hag like you could make it up those stairs."

The woman just hummed, eating another olive delicately. Zero narrowed her eye, watching the carefree movements, the gentle sway of the branches above them. The woman was barefoot, yet her feet were uncalloused, and there was no suppleness to her. She was all soft, all old, her wicker basket and staff not quite right. Zero glanced up into the olive tree at a dart of movement, and above, a crested owl tucked itself within the branches, grey eyes watching her unflinching. 

Zero’s mouth tightened. “One.”

The woman bowed her head and laughed quietly. “You are catching on.”

With grace, she rose from her spot among the roots with her basket under her arm. Her white hood fell from her head, falling to trail over her shoulder. She began toward the spring, and her disguise fell away as she moved, the staff growing longer and thinner, ending in a point. Her basket gained weight, expanding and knitting together until the gaps had vanished, until the wicker melded into the steel of an aegis, its front adorned by cthonic beasts. 

Her wrinkles faded, skin become smooth and pale, and her hair fell around her face, feathering blonde locks framing her face, crimson eyes gleaming happily. Before her bare foot had even touched the water, the old woman resting in the nook of the olive tree was gone, replaced by the Goddess who had sent Zero on this hunt in the first place. 

One smiled evenly, driving the butt of her spear into the loomy soil and setting her shield against it. 

"I got the head. The next time you want me dead, kill me yourself. That gorgon’s cave was fucking nasty." Zero averted her good eye, looking instead at the coiled serpent clasp at One’s shoulder. It seemed to shift and move under her gaze. "And stop doing that. The pretending to be mortal thing. One of these days I’m going to off you."

One cared little for her mouth, or at least she hadn’t ended up cursed or horribly afflicted yet. Instead, she waded into the water, taking long, steady strides. “Perhaps one day you’ll recognize me at once.”

All Gods played games, and One was no different. She had never once approached Zero in her true form, always wrapping herself in the rags of mortals; she was a maiden, a mother, a crone, but never a Goddess. Not until Zero declared her as such. Until then, she fed Zero lies, gave her stories, and waited for her to sort through the tangle to arrive at the truth. Truly it was more of a test than a game for Zero, and each round left her head aching, her mood soured. 

Dropping back into the water, Zero nodded toward the trail of her armor. “The head’s over there.”

"Victorious, as I knew you would be."

The water barely seemed to touch her skin and robes. She entered the spring, trailing her fingertips along the surface, and stopped before Zero, pale skin specked with shadows from the branches above them. One bid Zero rise with a look, and Zero dug her heels into the mud, her expression blossoming into uncertainty. 

Her hands were soft and warm when they touched Zero’s, bringing them together and turning them palm up so she could look upon them. The feel of them made Zero’s guts knot, her throat going dry again. Deliberately, One dipped them beneath the surface, her thumbs rubbing languid circles on Zero’s rough hands, scrubbing the blood and caked sweat and dirt from her skin. 

"Enjoy the spoils," One said, not quite looking at Zero. "The next trial will be more difficult."

Zero nearly choked, trying to steel her features. She could hear her pulse in her ears. “There’s more? What can It fucking send after me that I can’t just turn to stone?”

"The Morai do not see, and they may decide the fate of a mortal hounded by a God without appearing before you. And the Flower has champions to do It’s work. As you overcame the gorgon, others may copy. Yours is not the only mirror shield in this world." One turned her hands over, rubbing over her knuckles until her skin shone. 

"Fuck that," Zero hissed under her breath. "Can’t you do something?"

One looked up, swiping the heel of her hand over a rough spot on Zero’s cheek, hesitating by her ear. “Yes,” she said, brushing wet hair behind Zero’s ear. 

The first time One had appeared before Zero, she had told her there was nothing she could do to stop the Flower directly. Gods did not fight amongst one another, not since Sparta raised arms against Troy. They chose champions, bestowed blessings and items of immeasurable power, but never did they actually act against one another. Zero had already received a shield and a plan from One; that she could offer more was against her very nature. 

Zero’s breath quickened, and she breathed in the scent of olives and sweet water. It made her head spin, or maybe that was the Goddess cupping her jaw, bright eyes soft and inviting. She laughed in spite of it all. 

"You’re—You’re not Five," Zero pointed out. 

One smiled. “I am not.”

"But you don’t… Fuck, I mean, I know some of you—" Zero swallowed, and her blush was dark across her cheeks. "Gods do that. A lot."

"But not me?" One’s gaze flickered to the bare expanse of Zero’s shoulders, though it strayed no farther. "I take fancy with who I please, even if I may not take them to bed."

Oh. Well. Her hands tingled, and she hesitantly pressed a palm to One’s hip, listening as she hummed thoughtfully. There were plenty of stories of Gods taking human consorts, Zero remembered as she leaned in, bending her head—but One’s record was nameless. No scorned lovers cursed with boils. No unwilling partners turning themselves into trees to resist her godly advances. The Gods made games out of the lives of mortals, and Zero knew that like she knew the ache in her missing eye. The Flower wanted her dead, or worse. Getting noticed by the Gods usually had that effect. 

Yet even so, even with One’s full attention, even with her hands on her skin, her warm breath on her lips—Oh  _fuck_  it. She already had the Mistress of the Underworld trying to kill her. Why not risk it?

Closing her eye, their lips met softly, and One’s hand slid back into Zero’s wet hair, her other coming up to draw patterns on the back of her neck. One’s mouth opened to her, and the taste of her flooded Zero’s senses until she was dizzy with her, hand twisting in the robes at her hip. Some part of her, some small, forgotten survival instinct screamed that she was kissing a  _Goddess_ , but the rest of her melted into One, pressing flush against her and kissing her until she was breathless and trembling. 

When Zero finally had to pull away, not quite believing and not quite wanting to stop to think about it, One’s pale features were flushed with heat, her cheeks rosy. Her eyes, ever calculating, ever gleaming, looked glassy, and when she licked her lips, eyes hooded, Zero felt her knees go weak. 

She took a stuttering breath and then leaned down to kiss her again. 

One’s smile pressed against Zero’s mouth, and this time Zero slid her fingers through silken blonde hair. All of her was soft, smooth. She could break Zero with hardly a thought, but the tenderness of her touch betrayed her; she would no sooner dispose of her newest mortal toy than she would stand against the Flower.

The second kiss lasted longer than the first, but time stopped registering for Zero, losing sense of everything but One. 

"Perhaps," One breathed, breaking the kiss and offering only a swift peck in recompense. "We might continue—" She touched Zero’s cheek. "After we discuss what’s next."

A beat passed. Zero sneered. “Fuck that.”

One’s lips quirked into a smile, and Zero realized that she would not want to talk about what’s next later either. 

"A moment longer then," she said, leaning in again. 

The water parted around them as they slid down into the spring, heads bobbing above the water as they kissed in the shade of the great olive tree, the only sound the wind sliding across the land, disturbing the owl still nestled among the branches.


End file.
